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Good Morning: Self Reflection and Mac Miller

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[Cover Art] Mac Miller ~ GO:OD AM designed by DJNowGraphics / @djnowgraphics

Photo by DJNowGraphics

 

The past month and a half, for me, has been a candid reminder of the fragility of human life.

I had just recently lost a friend to drug-related issues, so the death of Mac Miller was a profound blow to me. On September 7, 2018, hip-hop lost a very talented artist.

Mac was someone whose music I had become increasingly more drawn to since he released Macadelic in 2012. He had, in my eyes, expanded his artistic palette much further, honed in his lyrical ability, and created a unique little niche for himself within the genre.

I also understood his personal demons. He was never shy about discussing his struggles with depression, loneliness and addiction within his music. Albums like Watching Movies with the Sound Off and his most recent release, Swimming, are just a few of Mac’s projects where he is brutally honest about his struggles. On “I Am Who Am”, a song off WMWTSO, carries these sentiments:

 

“Forfeit in the war, he lays a sword down and walks away

Grabs a 40 from the corner store and begins to contemplate

Dealing with death like he work in the morgue, absorbing the souls

Forgotten, he lost his way

Starring down that barrel, thinking not today…”

 

After his death, I played his music for the entirety of the day. After listening to said albums above, along with others such as his 2014 release, Faces, I came across an album I hadn’t touched in several years: GO:OD AM. I remember playing that album heavily when it came out in 2015 because it was released during my last semester at environmental school. My college experience had changed me permanently. One of the main contributors to my depression is my muscular dystrophy, but the stresses of schoolwork, the potential future, and my chemical imbalance due to excessive drug use only amplified my depression and near-brush with suicide during that time in my life.

As I listened to GO:OD AM again, I began to have flashbacks. All of these past emotions resurfaced once again.

Eventually, I got to “Two Matches”.

I was outside my dorm building smoking a Newport near the bench behind the building. The bench overlooked a cemetery that was also located behind the building.

It was nighttime, and I was all alone, something that became common for me that semester. I would deliberately procrastinate on my assignments to go outside and smoke, whether it was weed or cigarettes. It was how I listened to albums.

I had forgotten how gorgeous that Sounwave beat sounded. I would walk outside with my headphones, pray no one was out on the bench, and walk over by my lonesome and listen to whatever I had found that day. GO:OD AM got that same treatment.

“Two Matches” in particular stood out to me not only for its production quality, but for the sentiment of risk and wonder regarding the future the song discussed:

“Hey, blow out your candles, make a wish

What’s a life if you never take a risk?

Ain’t a place too far, ain’t a dream too big

Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little bit of fun (let’s have some fun)

Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little bit of fun…”

 

To a budding young nineteen year-old, lyrics like this made the song feel like an anthem.

Some nostalgia kicked in as I replayed songs like “Time Flies” and “Weekend”. I remember having “Time Flies” on repeat for WEEKS. Mac really rode that bouncy, beat beautifully: “You can’t expect the unexpected, these dreams are manifested, from my head into reality, they seems a bit excessive”.

Every track returned me to a another memory. The song “Clubhouse” brought me back to a particularly vivid one.

I’m crumbling weed onto a frisbee inside a cemetery mausoleum with a few friends (the cemetery was a common chill spot for myself and fellow students who lived at the dorm). I had my portable speaker next to me blaring GO:OD AM. I was always keen on showing off my music collection to my college buddies. I became known for it (I may have over-requested the aux a few times). “Clubhouse” was currently the song blaring out of my speaker: “If there’s a list to the top you could sign me up”. God, that hook was catchy. The scratching mixed with that little faint xylophone only amplified the vibe.

Almost every night, I was partying and smoking. However, this particular night would be cut short. After rolling up, a cop decided to pull up to our location. I spent the next thirty minutes ducking from his spotlight behind gravestones until I could make a break for the dorm room. Luckily we all got out without getting arrested.

The loneliness and boredom of being at school triggered my drug use, which ultimately led to me doing poorly in school, which would then lead to me being kicked out of school.

“Perfect Circle” began to play.

Those opening, haunting vocals smacked me with a wave of sadness.

This was a song I used to play a lot during my time at school. A song I always played when I was depressed and alone. I was depressed and alone a lot.

I started to remember the day I found out I was going to be kicked out of school. That night, I got an acquaintance to pick me up a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the liquor store. I went to the graveyard by myself and chugged half of that bitch in less than an hour.

I didn’t give a fuck anymore.

The next thing I remember is waking up with dried vomit on my clothes. It was still pitch black outside and I was still drunk. To this day, I have no idea how I found my way back up to my dorm room that night. It’s honestly a miracle I made it back safe.

As I continued to listen to “Perfect Circle” with tears in my eyes, I began to see the parallels between my prior lifestyle and the one Mac was describing:

 

“I wash these pills down with liquor and fall

Leave it to me I do enough for us all

Got what you need if you like breaking the law

My mother raised me a God”

 

So much similarity between us, yet, I’m still here, and Mac Miller isn’t. Another wave of sadness hits me when I hear:

I’ve been a sinner, I’m just tryna stay

Warm through the winter, and I’ll be on my way

I’m just a drifter, in endless seas of whispers

I just need shelter, give me shelter from the wind.”

 

By the time “Perfect Circle” turns into “God Speed” I’m bawling, knowing the potential fate he wished to prevent had come to fruition:

“But white lines be numbing them dark times

Them pills that I’m popping, I need to man up

Admit it’s a problem, I need a wake up

Before one morning I don’t wake up…”

 

I cried because Mac Miller never had the chance to heal himself, and now he’s gone.

I cried because my friend met the same fate as he did.

I cried because, in reality, it could’ve been me.

I pushed through the tears and eventually finished the album. What had started as a tribute to a fallen artist, turned into a powerful segment of self-reflection and thankfulness for life:

“Gotta thank God every morning that I woke up…”

One of the truly great things I loved about Mac Miller was his relatability to the people of my generation. A piece of Mac Miller existed in everyone. There are “Mac Millers” out there everywhere that struggle with the same issues he did whose fates have yet to be decided.

I guess I survived because I found a balance. That balance was my passion for music and writing.

My demons aren’t completely buried, and my vices still tug at me every so often. I’m not perfect, nor will I ever be. But I feel like I’m in a state of balance in my life currently that I’m comfortable with. To quote the late rapper himself: “But I think that the beauty is in being able to be in both places […] I really wouldn’t want just happiness. And I don’t want just sadness either. I don’t want to be depressed. I want to be able to have good days and bad days. I feel like that’s really important”.

R.I.P. Malcolm McCormick

To Rap Like Water: A Review of Noname’s “Room 25”

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Noname “Room 25”

“We Tell Ourselves Stories In Order To Live”–Joan Didion

Right now in hip-hop, there is truly no one rapping like Noname. She is not “the anti-Cardi B”. She is not, nor has she ever been, “the female Chance”. Born Fatimah Nyeema Warner, the Chicago-native exists in a lane of her own making. She came into the public eye by way of featuring alongside Chicago contemporaries such as Mick Jenkins and Chance the Rapper. While battling her own demons (depression and alcohol) held back the long-awaited debut, in 2016 Telefone emerged into the world and fans embraced this new, vibrant voice in hip-hop. From Telefone to now, Noname has pulled back her layers and revealed so much more. If Telefone was a delicate conversation in the quiet, tender hours, Room 25 is her pulling back the night’s curtain, letting the sun in, inviting everyone to bare witness.

She stakes her claims from the start with “Self”, a soothing, light-hearted, yet sharp-tongued meditation towards those who believe they believe they have Noname all figured out: “Y’all really thought a bitch couldn’t rap, huh?”. While she boldly addresses those who fail to box her with labels, she reminds all of us: she does all this for herself. In “Self”, Noname is sexy, flirty, and audacious in a way we’ve never seen her before. She enjoys what her body is capable of: “My pussy teachin ninth-grade English / My pussy wrote a thesis on colonialism”. Here the Chicago-native subverts the ways in which the feminine body is often portrayed in hip-hop: “I know niggas only talk about money and good pussy”. She claims her pussy and its powers so no one else can. She is irreverent, disarming, and it feels like we’re being reintroduced to the Noname she took the years in between albums to cultivate.

In “Window”, much like the title of the song, Noname is wide open from her adventures in love and sex. Self-love, romantic-love, love as forgiveness, and more are translated into a delicate background of xylophone, and hi-hats. In her interview with The Fader, Noname is very candid about coming into her sexuality and the heartbreak that came with it: “My only reason for not having sex was purely insecurity, purely like, I’m too afraid to be naked in front of somebody. A lot of people feel like that but the horniness trumps it, the horniness is slightly more than the insecurity”. Though the four-month relationship came to a crashing end, Noname emerged with a mature sense of self-love and how humans love one another: “And all you got was me-me-me / But I love you even though we’re not meant to be, I still love you / I hope you find everything that you want, and she loves you / Everything is everything just know that I love you”.

Courtesy of The Fader

Along with her budding sexuality, stepping into darling self-affirmation married to a smooth, sweeping crescendos of sound, she leads us into “Don’t Forget About Me”, a song in which Noname confront her mortality, a theme often visited on Telefone, except this time she is more at peace her sense of fragility, and therein lies her strength: even with mortality a horizon that stretches as far her eye can see, she just wants to be remembered–like any of us would. We want to believe our labor in this world will immortalize us. Death does not kill us, but being forgotten does: “I know everyone goes some day / I know my body’s fragile, know it’s made from clay / But if I have to go, I pray my soul is still eternal”.

In this album, Noname experimented and found her secret weapon in a full-live band, which she admits blew through her self-funded budget: “Man, that shit is fucking expensive as hell. Someone has to arrange all the parts and then you have to then hire, like, 12 people, this big-ass orchestral thing,” she says. “[I paid for] the whole album, everything, myself. And I was like, Do I want to spend this much money on something that’s so minimal?” As minimal as the rapper claims it was, it lifted Room 25 into a simple heaven. Orchestra-driven tracks such as “Montego Bay” are a melodic, quick-paced, lush tapestry of dreams. Scat singing in the background, Noname raps, and with ease, keeps up with the jazz.

Notable features such as Ravyn Lenae on “Montego Bay”, Smino & Saba on “Ace”, Adam Ness on “no name” attribute to Noname hometown, yet larger-than-life music. These features are humbling because Noname looks towards home for those to help her sing her truest songs. Ravyn Lenae’s vocals romance us on “Montego Bay” much the way she did on “Forever”. Smino and Saba double-dutch a skittering of rhymes on “Ace”, while Adam Ness brings us home on “no name”

The final track on “Room 25” is a song of victory, of ascension. More than a resolution, Noname’s refusal to be attached to names and labels (“because when we walk into heaven / no one’s name gonna exist”)  is further synonyms with her outlook on mortality: “Only worldly possession I have is life”. It’s never safe to assume anything about a rapper like Noname, a rapper who crafted a persona piece about being a woman who lost a baby, but one can deduce age 25 was a critical age for this rapper. Maybe the room, then, is the space of her life and how this album is a timestamp of that. There isn’t a skippable track on “Room 25”; what Noname has created here is a dense menagerie of sound that is calming and feels like a slice of home. Where Telefone often was an album of loss and mourning, Room 25 is an uplifting gesture of gratitude and reverence for life. Noname’s patience and deliberate execution is what will ensure she maintains a long and successful career. In the age of mass-production, Noname moves at her own pace. She will be heard when she is ready and you will say ‘thank you’. Noname is exactly what hip-hop needs right now.

***

I.S. Jones is the Managing Editor of Dead End Hip-Hop. You can tweet at her here

InderPaul Sandhu breaks out with the “Fountain Pen”

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InderPaul Sandhu brings us closer to his fears and hopes on the mellow, introspective record titled “Fountain Pen”. Over a minimal, soulful chord progression, the artist delivers a heartfelt performance that would get the listener drawn to his swirling emotions and expressive lyrics to match. He summarily breaks down his life with the lines ‘Flunked college, never got that job that I wanted’  and proceeds to pull at our heart’s strings with his gloomy vibes.

The visual was shot by John Ross Courage and portrays Sandhu as a street bum experiencing some sort of an epiphany but still unconcerned about most things around him. He further explains  “…Everyone has set themselves goal’s and targets that they didn’t make, reach or even come close too and where many people quit or get disheartened it is those that are determined to be successful in their endeavours that get somewhere…”

“Fountain Pen” (Produced by Essie B )is taken from his newest EP Bloom.

Follow him on all social media platforms: Instagram / Facebook /Twitter

 

Marlowe (L’Orange & Solemn Brigham): “Vagrant” Bonus Cut + Interview

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Mello Music Group continues to just pump out consistent music and this year is no difference. L’Orange and Solemn Brigham have known each other for a minute but it wasn’t until now that the two came together to become “Marlowe”. They released their self-titled debut back in July. Today they’re here with a bonus cut called “Vagrant” I had the chance to ask a couple questions about the album and their relationship. You can peep “Vagrant” below and make sure you peep “Marlowe” HERE.

Dead End Hip Hop: Fill me in on how the two of you came together?

L’Orange:
We went to college together. My first memory of working with him was driving around campus listening to him rap to these wack beats I made back in the day and being blown away by his style. After I moved away from North Carolina, we stopped working together but stayed friends.

Solemn:
You could call it fate or coincidence. Most MC’s start rapping pretty early in life and it was the same for me up until college. I used to rap with some of my friends- one of them recorded me once and said he knew this mysterious producer. Not long after that I was working on an album with L’Orange. After that I was more than just a dude who could rap.

DEHH: Nowadays a group project seems to be a rarity. How did the name Marlowe come about?

L’Orange:
Marlowe is a name I’ve wanted to use for a long time. I wanted to tell a story with this new character involved. Once Solemn and I started brainstorming, it clicked that this was the right way to tell that story.

Solemn:
Group projects are rare which is another reason I was so pumped to make this album. As different as L’Orange and Solemn Brigham are as artists, there are several places we meet in terms of musicality and philosophy. I like the seriousness and sense of mystery that comes with the name Marlowe. It perfectly represents where our worlds collide.

DEHH: Solemn your energy on this record is vibrant and explosive on here. What was it like working with L’Orange? (Also props on the Fred Sanford track he’s one of themy favorite characters of all time).

Solemn:
First off all respect to the O.G. Fred Sanford. Really pleased you felt the energy of the album as well. Working with L’Orange is familiar territory for me so it was more like chillin blazin and hangin with the homie while making dope music. I think that’s why the album has so much life. There were crazy moments and frustrating times but it was exactly how I always pictured making music, pure enjoyment. So to everyone looking for some jewels…. make sure you enjoy yourself.

DEHH: Now L’O on one hand I feel like I can pinpoint a L’Orange beat when I hear it, on the other hand every project you’re involved in has a unique sound. What was the motivation behind the sound on this record?

L’Orange:
This was a new take for me. Instead of going to my usual jazz records, I tried to draw on a different era of music. I was looking for a vintage international sound: psych, surf, experimental.

DEHH: When cats are done listening to “Marlowe” what do you want them to walk away with? And I might be pushing it a bit, but will we get a sequel record from you two in the future?

Solemn:
When people finish that last hit of Marlowe, I want you to feel a sense of empowerment. I want you to know that the energy you just felt was us being and feeling alive and doing our best to seize control. You too can have power, just peep game. As for a sequel well, neither of us got killed off in Marlowe so we may return. All I know is if there is a sequel cant nobody play me but me.

DEHH: Can you talk about this bonus cut “Vagrant” you have for us?

L’Orange:
Vagrant was a song we worked on together in Seattle. It was one of our favorites but got cut for being a bit different from the rest of the songs musically. It’s a great song, centering around a time in Seattle where Solemn was denied a lyft.

Solemn:
Are you tired of being misjudged? Sick of everyone’s perceptions weighing on you? Do you find yourself playing the villain? Do you have responsibilities you couldn’t give less of a damn about? Do you or have you ever had an afro? If so then Vagrant is for you. Vagrant is to remind you that no matter what you do, we don’t define ourselves. People see what they want to see.

Thank You, Mac Miller

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Thank you Mac Miller.

And I’m sorry. That’s the first thing I want to say and I’m sure it’s something a lot of us would say to Mac Miller if any fan got to see him before September 7, 2018. Because as of that day, we lost one. More specifically, I did.

There are plenty of artists I have grieved for and still do whenever I play their music; however, when it comes to Mac Miller he was different. He was someone that helped me acclimate to my new life.

In August 2011, I moved from Dallas, TX to Greenville, NC to live with my dad. It was just before the start of my sophomore year in high school. It was a time where I didn’t know anything, really, because I was still trying to understand who I was in the world. While I had been in the area before, I didn’t live there. I had no friends. All I had was my dad and music.

I was nervous to talk to other kids but the music was my entry point to other people. I could speak about it and my presence was known.

I was on every new release but it wasn’t until Blue Slide Park came out that I couldn’t join the conversation. The discussion had shifted to someone who I had no clue about. I had to ask my classmate, Kelsey Holder, who he was. Come to find out, he’s a rapper from Pittsburgh who was only 4 years my senior. I had to find out what all the talk was about so I downloaded the project, listened, and found something and someone special.

I was on a bit of a high horse when I was 15 and didn’t listen to rap like that. What did some white kid from Pittsburgh have to teach some fifteen-year-old black kid trying to figure it all out…? He helped me find a part of myself I had lost in trying to find other things. From there, I went back and download K.I.D.S. and Best Day Ever with the latter being one of the projects that really shot me over the moon. “Wake Up” was the morning jam I played on the back of the bus.

As the years went by and I got older, so did Mac. Growth that I don’t think anyone expected him to show emerged; he gave us steady, progressive change that was reflective in other people’s lives. It’s part of the reason he resonated with so many younger fans and opened doors for older fans to appreciate him. Before most, he was one of the first real, relatable guys of the new school. He was unabashedly human.

But of course, like anyone who ages in hip-hop and isn’t on top, jokes were thrown his way. A lot of them too. Not reflective of his character but any white rapper that appeared on any preppy frat boy’s playlist was ridiculed. Ask Asher Roth. Even if they have shed that persona ages ago, it’s an easy point to pick at for any “hip-hop head”. It was unfair but life doesn’t care about unfair.

Stating himself that fame had been one of the reasons, Mac struggled with depression and substance abuse. He never strayed away or hid it from his fans. It was a fact he made clear on 2014’s Faces. It was my last year of high school and by then I wasn’t listening to Mac as much as I used to but I still respected him a lot. It was the year I finally tried to get help for my depression. Mac was open for anyone to look and see him. He also advocated for bettering one’s self even when he was done. It was another part of himself that he didn’t have to share but he did. And I wanted to do the same. So I gave part of myself to others to find love.

Now it’s 2018, I have graduated from college. Mac Miller has long graduated from the young class to a young vet with almost 10 years into the game. We had both made strides in our life. Still struggling but working through demons. It’s August 3rd and Mac releases Swimming. His fifth studio album. It so happens to be on a day that also has the major releases from Travis Scott and YG.

It’s a hectic hip-hop day but instead of listening to the others, I want to listen to his project first. For the simple reason, that I might find something in it that’ll help me again. Why? Because it’s the Friday before I made another big transition of my life by moving from Greenville, NC with my dad to Decatur, GA that Sunday. I thought more so than those other projects, that I would find some solace in his because I was in a rut. I didn’t have a job yet and I only had enough money to last me a month. Like that album in high school, I needed something. So I went to Spotify and pressed play. While it didn’t make me feel the same way Blue Slide Park did in high school, it did something else for me instead. It made me feel okay and that was all I needed.

Fast forward to a little over a month later, I’m at work. It’s a slow day and I decide to check my phone just because I was bored. So I go to Twitter and I’m scrolling and I see Mac’s name. Thinking it’s a new song, I scroll back up. But instead, the news brings tears to my eyes: “Mac Miller has passed away at 26”.

I keep checking my timeline to see if it’s true and I was unfortunately right. It was real. My throat was dry. I couldn’t speak. I was in a daze. My co-worker asks me if I’m okay. I said, “I don’t know but did you know Mac Miller?” She says no and I start to describe him and the tears well up some more and I have to go to the restroom for a sec. Just to wipe my eyes.

Mac had helped at two pivotal moments in my life. I never went to a concert and I wasn’t the biggest die-hard fan but his death hit me. More than I honestly thought it would. I didn’t expect someone four years my senior to suddenly pass. It made me think about death and the brevity of living but then I listened to his album again. Like I am now. Even with water welling up my eyes, I know it’s going to be okay. He gave too much and changed too many lives for me to wallow in sadness. It wasn’t what his music was about. He was more than that. It’s obvious to see when no one has anything bad to say. Hip-hop and fans alike collectively mourned for a soul that made them feel better without trying.

I salute to Mac Miller because he didn’t know it, but he helped me grow and find parts of myself. If there is a heaven, I hope you’re finally at peace.

***

Tyler Jones is a freelance writer based out in the ATL area.

 

Yahweh On Depression & Recovery, “Arcadia” & Working With TheDeeepEnd [Interview]

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North Carolina’s Yahweh has released his EP “Arcadia” that goes both ways. In one hand “Arcadia” is a dark exploration into Yahweh’s mind and the struggles he’s dealt with. However what separates “Arcadia” from most projects like it is Yahweh gives multiple solutions, a light, a way out of the darkness. I had a chance to sit down with the NC standout to talk about his journey.

Dead End Hip Hop: Who’s Yahweh, where’d the name come from?

Yahweh: Yahweh is a 20 year old kid who grew up in a small town just outside of Raleigh, North Carolina. My real name is Alex, but I chose to go by Yahweh for a few different reasons. First and foremost, I’m not saying that I’m God, which is how some people interpret it unfortunately. I didn’t pick that alias with any bad intentions in mind. Growing up, Yahweh was one word in the bible that always stuck out to me and I just loved the way it rolled off the tongue. ‘Yahweh’ is built off the Hebrew word for ‘I Am’, and I love that translation because of all the translations it entails. It’s relatable. No past, no future, just simply being. I am what I am, and will be until I meet my end.

DEHH: Talk to me about growing up in North Carolina and how you get into hip-hop?

Yahweh: I didn’t grow up with family issues, I didn’t have to worry about where my next meal was coming from, and I was blessed with a solid group of guys that I grew up with (3 of which are now my roommates in Boone, NC where I attend App State). Honestly, I wouldn’t say I had any issues throughout my childhood until high school came around, and junior year is when I’d say shit hit the fan. I was in a toxic relationship and was being mentally and emotionally abused, I was bullied worse than anything I’d experienced before (I’m talking getting chased down the highway by a group of guys, getting pictures sent to me of other guys messing with my girlfriend at parties, and getting calls from random people late at night just to let me know that I was the equivalent of dirt), and I could feel my mind degrading quickly. I started getting more into drugs shortly after the relationship ended, hoping that it would ease my anxiety, but of course it was only a temporary bandage. That bad decision followed me out of high school and led to my arrest in July of 2016. With my college acceptance rescinded, my car impounded, 2 felonies staring me in the face, and my family and peers looking down on me, the depression and anxiety attacks kicked in quickly, and much worse than before. I felt so alone and helpless that suicide crossed my mind several times a day. I’d never been the type to open up about how I was feeling, so I suppressed everything as best as I could. One day I was with my friend Levi (who’s a damn good musician) and we were messing around with some instrumentals. He told me to put some lyrics over the beat he had created, so I searched lyrics online. He realized what I was doing and basically told me to cut that out and write something myself. This was the first time I’d ever written my own lyrics. From then on, I just wrote, and wrote, and wrote. I would go on YouTube and find cool beats to try to fit my poems/lyrics. But for the first time, I felt that I could let it all out.

DEHH: One thing I always like to ask artists is what made you make the transition from a fan of the genre to making music?

Yahweh: I’d been into hip-hop and rap since middle school, but never in a deep way. I enjoyed listening to the music, but I wouldn’t say that I developed a deep respect for the music until I realized what an effective outlet it was for me to express my feelings that I had suppressed for so long. I dove deep into the genre, extended my reach, and really tried to get an understanding of the music I’d been listening to for years. If I was going to get into rapping seriously, I needed to know how important it was for the artists that made the genre what it is today. I started listening to lyrics more carefully, and for the first time I understood the stories, the emotions, and the journeys.

Early on in my musical career, a few months after my arrest, an old middle school friend named Key reached out to me. She saw via Instagram that I was a decent photographer and she was hoping I could do a photo shoot for her to promote some new music. We got together and I was surprised at how well she rapped and how clean her music sounded. Truthfully, I was surprised she hadn’t blown up locally yet. Driving around one night, I told Key and her cousin Noah that I had been writing some raps. They smiled, and I could tell they didn’t take it too seriously, but they wanted to hear what I had in store. When I rapped for them over I beat I had found on SoundCloud, they both looked shocked, laughed, and Key said, “Yeah we need to get you in the booth”. That was one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. She helped me make my first connections to other artists and engineers. To this day, I’m thankful for Levi, Key, and Noah for getting me started in Hip-Hop and taking it seriously.

DEHH: “Arcadia”…what’s it mean? What gave you the idea for it?

Yahweh: Originally, I wanted to make an E.P. that was more uplifting and positive than the music I had released in the previous few months. I was in a better place in life, or so I thought, so why not try to express that through some new music? With just a concept in mind, I went to Malcolm (theDeeepEnd) and asked him to produce the whole project. One of the first beats he created was for the song ‘Welcome to Arcadia’, and to me it just had this retro arcade game vibe that I really liked. The word Arcadia just popped into my head. When I looked up the word, I learned that it’s a Greek term that describes “a poetic shaped space associated with bountiful natural splendor and harmony.” However, Arcadia was often regarded as unattainable.

This was the name for the project. I knew it as soon as I saw that description. It captured my emotions to a tee. Through my trials and errors, I thought that I had reached a safe, harmonious place. My anxiety led me to believe that it could’ve been a farce, but I tried to reassure myself that I was indeed in a better place. In reality, I bounced between a happy, strong state of mind (Arcadia), and feelings of doubt and dread that aimed to make me believe that this sense of peace could never be attained.

It was perfect.

DEHH: I’m a sucker for a emotionally honest music, what made you open up like this in a hip-hop climate that doesn’t always reward emotional vulnerability?

Yahweh: Whether my openness would be rewarded or not, hip-hop gave me an outlet to unload. The only outlet that I’d been given before. Hip-Hop literally saved my life. If I hadn’t found a way to express myself and let my feelings out, they would’ve killed me one way or another. I didn’t start rapping to impress people by talking about drugs, money, and girls, I started rapping to let others know that I’m f*cked in the head too. My goal with making music is to relate to my listeners and induce a feeling of relief that they aren’t alone, a feeling I’ve been enduring for far too long. I opened up to be real and keep true to myself. Sure, it’s fun to bump some hard ass hip-hop, but I find gratification in meaningful lyrics. I hope that one day my music will be appreciated by those who understand what I’ve gone through and they’re able to relate.

DEHH: You worked with North Carolina’s theDeeepEnd. Tell me what that was like and what he added to your creative experience.

Yahweh: Ahhh Malcolm. I met theDeeepEnd on September 8th, 2017 at North Carolina’s Hopscotch Festival. I saw that there was a day party and thought this might be a good opportunity to get some cool pictures. I got to the show way too early so I was hanging around outside the venue when this tall dude wearing khaki cut off jeans walks out and asks if I’m here for the day party. I say, ”yeah I am, you too?” He told me he was performing and his name was theDeeepEnd. He brought me inside the venue where he introduced me to a few locals like Ace Henderson, his manager Elliot, and Marc Figueras. I felt a bit out of place being the only one who wasn’t in this group of people who had known each other well, so I ended up drifting away while more artists joined their circle. Malcolm saw me on the sidelines and pulled me back in to introduce me to the others that had arrived – Nance, G. Yamazawa, M8ALLA, and others.

This may seem like a small gesture, but it made me feel like I belonged somewhere. Here I am, some random white kid no one knew in a room of people I didn’t know, and Malcolm took a few seconds out of his day to make me feel included although he had only known me for less than an hour. I knew this dude was special and I was eager to try to work with him.

When I was planning the project out, I knew I wanted to have a sole producer create all the beats to have a similar sound throughout the entirety of the E.P. To my relief, he was down to work. Through the whole process, he helped me develop my voice and find myself within my own lyrics. He gave me tips to further advance my delivery, he offered to throw down adlibs and vocal doubles, and even a back and forth verse on the song ‘Masks’. theDeeepEnd influenced me to think outside of my organized little box I had been using to make songs prior to our sessions, and overall this project wouldn’t have been nearly as much of a success as it was with out him. I feel that I’ve improved so much as an artist just because of him, and I can’t express my gratitude enough for that.

DEHH: “Arcadia” is a bit different in that you don’t just talk about the problems you’ve faced, but you’ve talked about the solutions and how they’ve helped you. Can you go in depth on the strategies you used and the importance of including it in the music?

Yahweh: I’ve tried a lot of things to get my head space back in a positive place. Stuff like eating better, drinking a gallon of water a day, washing my face twice a day, and working out. My hope was that a better physical health could in turn boost my mental health, and I have seen some positive results with this. I’ve cut out negative people from my life including people who I haven’t talked to in years. I’ve tried opening up to people more about what I go through, which hasn’t been easy, but it’s a step. A big thing I’ve been doing is just letting go of the past, which I think is where a lot of my stress comes from.

I thought it could be important to include stuff like that in the songs because just in case I catch someone’s ear who has similar troubles, they may be able to use these strategies to overcome their demons just like myself.

In all honestly, I’ve still got a long road ahead of me before I can say I’m in a good place. I’m still looking for more positive influences and outlets, but I’m confident that things will improve in the future.

DEHH: When people are done listening to “Arcadia” what do you want them to walk away with?

Yahweh: I want them to know that it’ll be okay. We all have our demons. I don’t care how old you are, what you do for a living, how much money you have, or how big of a smile you have on your face. We’re all going through some shit, and I’m no different. I know what the bottomless pit feels like, and you aren’t alone. I’d hope that listeners can leave this project with a sense of relief and like a weight has been lifted off their shoulders. Of course, I hope they enjoyed bumping the project in general too.

DEHH: North Carolina, despite having legends like Phonte, 9th Wonder, Rapsody is still underrated. What do you bring to the hip-hop climate and who are some other artists that inspire your movement?

Yahweh: I’m still trying to figure out where I fit in the NC Hip-Hop scene, but from my short time in the game I believe that I bring a different state of mind than other locals. I’ve been at rock bottom and I’m still down, and I think I can help others out of the pit even if I can’t get myself out. Not that other local artists haven’t been at the bottom and aren’t down, because I know a few who currently are, but I have a strong will to fight for people. I want to uplift others, help others, and push others to be great. I feel like there are plenty of people in the local music scene who won’t uplift other artists mainly because they don’t want anyone else to take their spotlight. Of course, this is just a minority in a sea of amazing local artists who are here to push NC to the top. I would love to be a person that artists and others in general can come to with their problems and seek help that I’d be more than willing to give.

One of my absolute favorite things to do is connect with people, especially artists I look up to. Some of my biggest influences are artists like Nas, Isaiah Rashad, Joey Badass, Anderson .Paak, Gambino, Tyler, Earl, Frank Ocean, Saba, Noname, and of course the late Mac Miller (whose passing pained me more than I could’ve imagined). These artists make music that induce a strong emotional pull in me that leaves me wanting more. It’s relatable and that’s why I keep going back to listen to them, something I hope to be able to do through my music one day.

Rapsody is one NC artist that I would love to work with above almost all others one day. Her energy is infatuating, and she truly seems like an amazing person. Definitely someone I can look at and think, “I’ll be there one day.”

DEHH: 2018 is wrapping up but it isn’t over yet, what can we expect from you as the year comes to a close?

Yahweh: As we start wrapping up the year, I’ve got some plans. I’ve already begun to work on some new music with Levi (the same friend that encouraged me to write my first lyrics), but I’m taking a different approach. Being a relatively new artist, I don’t know where I fit. I don’t know what type of hip-hop I’m best at making. So for the next few months I’m going to be working outside of my comfort zone with new kinds of beats, new flows, and mainly just experimenting with different things.

I’d also love to perform in some more shows, so hopefully I can make that happen as well. Getting my name out there is a top priority, but I try to remind myself that I’m still a baby in the genre.

I’m not even close to reaching my full potential, and I think that’s what I’m most excited about.